All we need is a little love
by marinoa
Summary: Francis decides to find out what Arthur has to tell him but what he refuses to say. This is a sequel to my fic LETTERS.


AN: This is a sequel to my fic _**Letters**_.

**All we need is a little love**

_August, 3rd _

_I'm not happy about it, you smug French bastard! Are you really narcissistic enough to think that everybody would be happy with just having you around? I had already told you that I didn't want you here, and there were absolutely no reasons for you to think otherwise. I am terribly sorry but I didn't enjoy your company. And if you think that dragging me to cinema and theatre and fine restaurants and all kind of concerts, not mentioning less expensive activities, would make me change my mind, well, then you are wrong. Next time, enjoy your 'quality time' by yourself, stupid frog._

_This is the last letter I'm sending you. It was a huge mistake to send even the first one. But luckily, unlike some people, _I learn_ from my mistakes._

_Best regards,_

_England_

Francis frowned as he read the lines that Arthur had written. _The last letter? This?_

It had been a beautiful, sunny day of May, when Francis had received the first letter from Arthur. A letter from the Englishman was already unusual, but it had been the tone of the letter that had shaken Francis. Those few words that Arthur had written him conveyed the Frenchman the feeling that something was bothering the Englishman, that there was something he needed to talk about. And since Francis knew Arthur, how difficult it was for him to share his feelings, he had considered the letter as a cry for help. And Francis would have never even thought of refusing his help from his dear enemy. He couldn't stand it when his Englishman was feeling down. So, Francis had decided to do his best to help Arthur open up his mind and share his worries.

Unfortunately nothing was that easy with that stubborn little Englishman. Even without knowing what Arthur wanted to talk about, Francis could tell that at any rate it had nothing to do with what he had written in his letters; he had known Arthur for long enough to know when the Englishman was avoiding the actual matter (though he had to admit that Arthur had presented few interesting statements). Even when Francis had visited Arthur for couple of weeks (he just couldn't take that lonely tone in Arthur's letters), Arthur hadn't said one word about it. And when Francis had asked him outright, the Englishman had freaked out and told him to mind his own business.

But Francis wasn't called a Nation of Love for nothing. On his way back to France he had done a little thinking. Arthur's letter, his behaviour... and when Francis had received another letter from Arthur, it had started to be quite obvious for Francis that Arthur was longing for nothing less but love. Which had made the Frenchman slightly furrow; did Arthur not know that he loved him? He _should_ know; they had spent all those centuries together, they had shared all those wars and fights, all each other's weak moments, all the intimate evenings in peaceful silence. There had not been much words, but the silence had spoken everything clear between them... At least to Francis. On the other hand, it was Arthur Francis was talking about, so perhaps he _really_ didn't know.

But now... Francis was holding the letter in his hands and laying on his sofa.What was this supposed to be? _Last letter? _So Arthur wasn't even planning on telling him. Sighing, the Frenchman stood up and walked over to a window. Everything was so difficult with Arthur, he thought with a jovial smile. But that's what made life interesting.

He looked out of the window. The weather was beautiful; sunny and warm, but Francis didn't expect it to be the same in England.

xXx

Arthur looked out of the window and sighed. Just why did it have to be raining when he was going to go out? Or other way around: why did he have to run out of tea just when it was raining? However, neither of the ways pleased the Englishman. The outcome was the same anyway: he had to go out into the rain. Again.

Giving another sigh, Arthur put the documents he was reading into his drawer, to the one that was the second after uppermost. Closing the drawer, he hesitated and opened the uppermost one. That's where the letters Francis had sent him were. And that's where his letter that he would never send was. Arthur took it out and looked at the envelop; it had Francis' name and address written on it, Arthur had even put a stamp on it. The letter was ready to be sent. He could just take it with him. And put it into a letter box. And in about three days it would reach Francis. And Francis would read it. And nothing would change. Except that Arthur would move into the darkest forest, or perhaps to the furthest desert, and die there of shame.

No. Arthur put the envelop back into drawer. It was the best that Francis never read the letter. Not even by accident.

Wondering if the Frenchman would reply his last letter, Arthur took his umbrella and stepped into the rain.

When he almost an hour later came back home, he noticed a piece of paper on his kitchen table. Frowning, he took the paper and read the lines written on it.

_August, 7th_

_Arthur,_

_At times as cold and feeling-less as now, love is the only thing to keep us alive. Come with me, _Angleterre_! None of us can stand alone._

_I'll be there at five o'clock._

_Francis_

Arthur's frown deepened. Again; how the hell Francis had got inside his house? And what was that letter? Arthur felt his face heating up - what did Francis mean with those words? Was he just playing with him, that stupid frog? Arthur slumped on a chair, folded his arms on the table and buried his face into his arms. Probably yes. Francis was _bloody always_ playing with him.

_I'll be there at five o'clock._ The Englishman groaned. Like he would even let that bastard into his house again!

The clock was ticking. Arthur glanced at it; it was almost four.

Damn it all.

xXx

"Hello, Arthur~" Francis smiled charmingly and offered Arthur a bouquet of dark red roses as soon as the Englishman opened the door of his house.

"...What is this supposed to mean?" Arthur asked and glared at the flowers, arms crossed over his chest, not stepping aside to let the Frenchman in. "Why are you here?"

Francis sighed inwardly; it seemed that Arthur was on a difficult mood again. _Oh well_, he thought. _The more difficult the challenge is, the more rewarding the reward will be. _"I have a document you should check. There are some mistakes we should correct." He wasn't technically _lying_, a letter could be taken as a document, couldn't it?

Arthur furrowed, obviously trying to remember all the documents concerning France and which of them could have errors in it. Francis waited impatiently, hoping that something would pop into the Englishman's mind, because he hadn't brought anything that Arthur would accept as a 'document' with him.

To Francis' relief, Arthur finally sighed and stepped back, giving him room to enter the house. "Come in, then. I should have known that there would always be mistakes whenever your country is involved," he muttered. The Frenchman stepped in, swallowing any comments that would angry the Brit. Instead of replying him, he handed him the roses. "These are for you, _Angleterre._ Put them in the water."

Carefully and not looking at Francis, Arthur took the flowers muttering something that could be a 'thank you' and walked into the kitchen to get a vase. Meanwhile, Francis quickly walked into the Englishman's office and sat casually on the edge of the desk. "Arthur, _cher,_ I am waiting~"

"For some reason that tone of yours is telling me to run away and don't look back," He heard Arthur saying, but despite his words the Englishman quickly showed up in the doorway. Quickly, as if he didn't want Francis to be there without having an eye on him. Francis smirked.

"Well, show me the bloody document."

Francis threw a glance at his watch and then at Arthur. "What about having a small snack first? I wouldn't mind having a cup of coffee or little something."

The Englishman rolled his eyes. "What about first checking the document? Then you could bug off to have your 'coffee or little something'."

"But that would not do, dear Arthur. I am your guest, am I not?" Francis flashed him his most charming smile, then shook his head. "This is not very gentlemanly behaviour from you, you know, not to regale your guests."

"Whatever. Fine. But you'll have to cope with tea." Arthur turned around to walk to the kitchen. "Come, then."

With his back turned to the Frenchman -Francis rose his eyebrow; after all those centuries with the Frenchman, Arthur should have known better than to let him out of his sight- Arthur couldn't see the guileful smile on Francis' lips. "Okay, I'll just put this document into your desk so we won't lose it."

Arthur stiffened for a second, them spun around. "Don't-!"

But too late. Francis had already opened the uppermost drawer. "What do we have here~? Letters?" From the corner of his eyes he saw how the Englishman's face paled a little. "I said don't-"

"These are from me? Oh but Arthur, you do have a romantic inside of you!"

"Put them back! Fuck it, put them back at once!" Arthur yelled, running to the Frenchman and trying to grab the letters from him. "They are my private stuff, don't- DON'T BLOODY _DARE_ look at them!"

"Why?" Francis laughed, enjoying how Arthur was struggling to get the letters from him, and trying to push him away with his free hand. "I have already seen them, _cher_... But what's this? Is it my name written on this envelop?"

It look like a lightning had struck Arthur. He jumped on Francis like a wild cat and managed to snatch the envelop from him. "Don't you _dare_ read this!" he almost hissed.

"_Non_, it is addressed to me so I have all rights to read it!" Francis protested and grabbed Arthur's sides before he could escape, pushing him over to the floor.

"Bloody git!" The Englishman cried as he hit the floor. "And no you don't! I haven't given it to you so it's still mine! Now get off me!"

Arthur tried to rise up but Francis didn't let him, pushing him down from shoulders and putting his legs on each side of Arthur's torso. Standing on his knees, Francis looked down at that flushed face beneath him and smiled seductively. "Let's stop being silly, _mon cher_..." he purred, placing his hands on the floor on both sides of the Englishman's head, and lowering himself a little closer to him. "Now give me the letter," he whispered huskily into Arthur's ear, lips barely brushing his skin and feeling him shivering.

Bright red engulfed the Englishman's face and he swallowed hard. "N-no." He clenched his fist tightly around the wrinkled envelop. "I said get off me! Go away, frog!"

Francis looked at Arthur and smiled softly. How fun it was teasing him like this, but perhaps it was time to move on with the matter. "Arthur," he said suddenly seriously, capturing the other's green eyes with his own. "I _am_ yours, I have always been and I always will be." Looking into those fascinating eyes, he added gently: "Didn't you know that?"

The Englishman froze. "W-what..." The red shade on his face deepened. Quickly he took a better look at the envelop in his hand. Now that he studied it, he noticed that it had already been opened and then closed again. Eyes widening, Arthur stared (purposefully) at the envelop almost in horror. "You didn't..."

"_Oui_, I did. I have already read your letter," Francis said reassuringly, looking down at the extremely embarrassed, lovely face. He ran his fingers along Arthur's features, grabbing his chin and making him look him in the eyes again. "After all, it was addressed to me, wasn't it?"

"But when did you..?"

"About two hours ago."

"I wasn't even home two ours ago!"

Francis grinned. "Exactly."

"So you sneaked into my house when I wasn't around and went through my belongings?"

"Actually I wanted to see you, but you weren't at home so I tried the door and let myself in."

"And went through my belongings?"

"It wasn't my purpose. I went to your office and noticed a paper on the floor. Knowing how much you hate disorder in your office, I decided to put the paper in your desk... And then." Francis leaned closer to Arthur's face. "And then..." he whispered into his ear, kissing the temple and brushing his lips along his face to the slightly parted lips. Gently he kissed those lips, nibbling the lower one and running his tongue along it.

It took a while for Arthur to respond the kiss. Letting the envelop fall from his hand, he reached and grabbed the Frenchman's head, pulling it closer, fingers tangling in the dark golden locks. Francis winced slightly when his hair was pulled, and answered by biting the other's lips, quite gently though.

"You bastard..." Arthur mumbled quietly into his lips. "And yet nothing changed..."

"Hmm?" Francis was more occupied with the Englishman's body than with his words.

"Today you...are...here, tomorrow at..._mmmhh_...somebody else's..."

The hurt in Arthur's voice made Francis stop his exploration over Arthur's body and look back at him; he was laying with his eyes closed, hands still in the Frenchman's hair. "Arthur?"

"Didn't you read my letter?" the Englishman asked, though it sounded like he was talking more to himself than to the Frenchman. "You should have never found it..."

"Arthur." Francis sat up and pulled the Englishman into his strong yet gentle embrace. "Arthur, listen to me."

Arthur wrapped his arms around the Frenchman and buried his face into the crook of his neck. He looked so vulnerable that Francis felt the urge to give his everything to make the man in his arms happy, to protect him from everything that could possibly hurt him.

"I'm sorry I haven't told or shown you clear enough how I feel about you." As he was quietly speaking, Francis rested his cheek on Arthur's head, stroking his messy, blond hair. He felt the arms around him tighten a little and smiled gently. "I have loved you ever since the day we met. I loved you when we were kids and you threw conifer cones at me." He smiled at the memory. "I loved you when I thrust my sword through your body." And other way around. The scars on their bodies told their long story. "And I love you now." How could he not, with the long history they had, with the bonds they shared? His voice soft yet firm, Francis continued to speak. "We have been together for so long, Arthur. Who else's I could ever be but yours? Who else could touch my heart, not mentioning holding it, like you do? No one, _mon amour_. I might flirt with other nations, too, but who are they? Just other nations. There is only one person in the whole world who I belong to, who I could even imagine to give myself completely, and that is you. Forgive me not letting you know that earlier."

Francis kissed the top of the head of Arthur. "Do you forgive me, Arthur?"

"...Stupid frog..." After short silence, the Englishman took hesitatingly the envelop from the floor and offered it to Francis. "This...is for you."

The Frenchman chuckled. "I take that as a 'yes'. Thank you, Arthur." He patted the Englishman's head. "Now how about the 'little something' we talked about earlier?"

Arthur playfully nibbed his neck. "Well... I can make us something to eat."

"How- how about _I_ make us something to eat?"

Arthur grinned and looked Francis in the eyes. "You said yourself it would not be gentlemanly to not regale my guests. Now prepare to face the consequences."

Ah, who could resist that grin? "Oh, if you want to regale me..." Francis pressed his lips against the Englishman's ear. "...You can serve me the dessert."

Arthur gave him a mischievous smile. "Very well, then... Both of them."

X

AN: Ugh, this wasn't supposed to be this long, but the story kind of wrote itself.

~This is dedicated to my luckiest friend. ;) Thank you!~


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